Black Keys
by SnowingStarDust
Summary: There was a man inside his mirror. He looked a lot like Tsuna but was older and blond. Tsuna was pretty sure he'd finally lost it after his mom's death so he turned his back to it. Giotto was stuck inside darkness with only dozens of windows as his only hope. They didn't break, he was losing it. And the only person who could help him didn't believe he was real. G27, AU, dark themes
1. Chapter 1

Name: Black Keys  
Rating: T (for now)  
Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, romance, friendship, family, (humor because I can never avoid it in my stories), fluff  
Pairing: G27  
Warnings: I don't know what happens yet but be prepared for some blood, bad dreams, death, bullying and dark places (why do I always write everything angsty?). And what comes to sex… don't know yet :D  
Disclaimer: Don't own KHR and never will. The plot (if there's one) is mine though.

Summary: _He hit the glass, he yelled for help, he pegged, he gave up. He was trapped, the glass didn't break. Then one day his eyes landed on a small, thin brunet on the other side. He was the only one who could see him, his only hope. But the eyes were empty and no matter how many times he tried to talk to him, all he got was, "Go away, you're not real!" and Giotto was left alone into the darkness. G27, AU, Tsuna not a boss_

A/N: Yo, not sure if it's okay to publish this yet since I have so many fics unfinished. But I couldn't resist! Originally this chapter was about 8k but decided to cut in the middle because, well, 14 pages for the first chapter sounded too long. And it means now I have two more chapters ready to be published! So, Tsuna's not a boss (and I don't know if he'll be or not) and this is indeed yaoi or at least shounen-ai. Enjoy! _  
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 _Chapter 1_

First there was a shock.

When Giotto opened his eyes for the first time to the new day, expecting to find the usual ceiling of his room, he only found darkness. He'd stared at it, that deep dark that seemed to be endless, feeling something close to panic making its appearance into his stomach. Then he'd sat up and expected to see something else, an enemy maybe, but only thing that had stared him back was still the same black space. Nothing moved, nothing didn't even seem to mock him. The dark sky or whatever it was just was there, simply existing.

Giotto fought back the urge to breathe heavily, the adrenaline which told him to run or fight. There was nothing to fight against and especially nowhere to run. It was just dark.

 _Calm down, calm down,_ Giotto repeated to himself, willing himself to consider his situation calmly. He stared one point in the distance which looked like everything else around him and listed things he knew in his mind. He was the mafia boss of a quite new family. He was already over twenty years old. Hell, he was a man. He didn't panic headlessly and jump into conclusions even though it seemed he was in a room or some kind of space which didn't have a roof, floor or even walls. When he looked down, he couldn't see himself either. The darkness had swallowed him so greatly that he had even started to think he'd become blind.

Maybe he was blind.

His hyper intuition told otherwise. His intuition told him that there was no enemy around either so he was safe for now. The intuition told him also that there was absolutely nothing. No way to escape, no way to see himself, no way to go back.

It was a hopeless situation.

When Giotto had sat there god knows how long he'd started to abandon his calm. Not on purpose, no, he was usually a level-headed man who'd faced many dangerous enemies and came out alive. He'd beat feared and strong mafia famiglie and won. But he'd never been in a situation where he was in a place with nothing or no one around, with only his thoughts as a company.

That was when he'd started to think too much and finally lost it.

Giotto jumped up and started to pace around the area, trying to find _something_. He refused to believe there was no hope. There was always hope. Right?

He couldn't see where he was going but why would he need to see. There was nothing he'd run into nor anything he'd trip to. Where did he need his eyes when everything was same, dull scenery?

It was absolutely the worst! Giotto refused to believe it. He had to get back. He had a family to take care of. He was already thinking how G would just blow the place up instead of leading it smoothly. He trusted his right hand man, alright, but the man was really temperamental especially when his other family members weren't little angles either. On the contrary, actually. Lampo would just throw trash everywhere and decline to do his job, Daemon and Alaude would fight each other and end up destroying the whole manor, Knuckle and Asari though wouldn't cause trouble but they couldn't stop it from happening either.

Then they'd start searching for him and without clues too. They'd look for him without breaks, without stopping to eat or sleep and then when they couldn't find him they'd just collapse and die off. It'd be all Giotto's fault.

The blond man shook his head. He was thinking too much, again. It was one of his demerits: he always started to think the worst. Usually he was able to avoid that, nowadays at least, but it was all thanks to his dear friends. Without them he started to worry too much and lost a sight of reality. Giotto finally stopped running around because it didn't help a thing and closed his eyes. Not that it mattered whether or not they were open but at least the thought that he was still able to control something, see something, calmed him down. He pictured his family in his mind, every single detail of them that he knew very well, and finally felt calmness wash over him.

He was still alive and he was definitely somewhere so there'd be a way out too. He'd arrived there some way too, right? So there had to be a way out.

The last thing he remembered doing was to go to sleep. After that, nothing. Had someone moved him while he was asleep? No, he'd have woken up or one of his guardians would have. So had someone drugged him? It was a possibility but highly unlikely. The person should have drugged others in the huge mansion too and that would have been a simple suicide. Then his dreams? Did this all happen inside his head? Was it doings of a mist user? No, Daemon would have been able to detect any kind of mist using. He was one of the best illusionists after all and Giotto trusted him with his whole heart.

So where was he and why?

For a moment he thought about voicing the question out loud but then decided against it. Seriously, that would have sounded a little crazy and he wished to believe he was still very sane, thank you. He refused to believe his mental state had started to waver as well as he denied many other things considering the absurd situation.

Just when Giotto was about to start moving again, trying to find something else but darkness, he indeed found something. Or rather something found him, materializing itself to his left, to his right, front, back and above. Giotto spun around looking at flashes of light that surrounded him, taking a fighting stance. He tried his pockets but couldn't find his gloves. Vongola ring he had but any kind of weapon was gone. His eyes widened. He tensed, ready to still enter his dying will mode even if he knew his flames would burn his hands without gloves. He couldn't die now, no matter what kind of enemy flashed like some supernatural being.

Flashing continued for a while, making Giotto blind after a long, thick darkness. He tried to keep his eyes open, to see what happened, but eventually the light won and he had no choice but close his eyes. It didn't help much but when the bright white lights stopped drilling through his eyelids he opened his eyes immediately and gasped.

There were windows. Everywhere. Every size and shape, showing him different sceneries even though they were situated close to each other and thus should have shown him almost same view. For a while the blond man couldn't do a thing, didn't want to do anything else but stare, mouth hanging open. What was going on here? Where had those windows come from and why? Why was he even there?

But no matter how much Giotto tried to judge the windows, he couldn't stop a small hope from forming in his chest. There were windows which meant he'd be able to get out if he broke one. There was a way out. The man felt his lips tugging up, his heart leapt. A way out, huh?

He walked towards one of the windows, looking out only to see something strange. He wondered how he registered the oddness only now but passed it as an aftermath of shock and dark. Usually, when someone looked out of a window from inside – where Giotto thought he was – he saw grass or sky or other buildings. But he didn't see those in these windows. He saw his own manor from inside. Vongola manor from angles he didn't even know had windows before.

Giotto observed the view critically, feeling confused. That hadn't been the only weird thing about the scenery. There was no one moving around and the place was dark, maybe it was still night and Giotto hadn't actually woken up because it was morning. But that wasn't really the weirdest thing: it was the fact that the furniture, the painting of the walls, some objects were different. They weren't the ones Giotto's used to. He walked around the black room, searching one place with his sharp eyes and when he found it, he let out another gasp. It was his room, or what he thought was his bedroom.

The walls weren't the same light beige he was used to but beautiful red with golden pattern. The bed was different too and he noticed someone was laying in it. Somehow Giotto just knew it wasn't him or one of his guardians. Who the man that slept in his room was, he didn't know but he'd find out. He let his eyes narrow feeling threatened. Someone had taken over his home and changed it how he pleased. Then he had also probably captivated Giotto in that hellish place without any light. Which was weird now that he thought about it. Even though he had dozens of windows around him, none of them let any light pass to the darkness. It really was like the dark in the place was cursed, sucking every ounce of light that tried to enter it. Sucking away all the positive thoughts and hope.

There was no way out.

Giotto jumped at his own thoughts. What was he thinking about? Of course there was a way out and he'd show that bastard who had done this what happened to those who messed with his family. With new resolution Giotto moved to the window which opened a scenery to one of his empty rooms so he wouldn't wake anyone up and try to imprison him before he was ready to fight, and so he started banging the window with his elbow.

It didn't budge, there wasn't even a crack after one very sharp hit Giotto had given it. Nothing at all. It didn't even make a noise.

Gulping, Giotto backed away and calmed himself down. He was once again prone to panic but that wouldn't help a thing. He had to stay calm and _get out._ After all the time he'd already spent there in the middle of nothing he finally started to feel the weight of the place and situation. If it was possible for the darkness to fall over, it'd feel like this. Utter hopelessness and helplessness.

Giotto hated that feeling. He would be able to get out. He had to and he would.

Once again the man rose his elbow and ran against the glass, he was readying himself for a fall after crashing through the glass but it never came. Neither did the impact. Yes, he did feel that something made contact with his elbow but that was it. The end of the story. No pain, no blood, nothing.

Giotto panted, not because of exercise but because of the revelation. He wasn't hurt. Why wasn't he hurt? Why did the window look still like nothing had happened? He rolled his sleeve up and looked. Nothing. Not even a hint of a forming bruise. What the hell?

Giotto stared at his arm with wide eyes. _What?_ He couldn't think straight and didn't even try. His plan had failed. His arm was okay. He wasn't hurt at all. Then the crazy idea, the first but not the last in that cursed place, entered the man's mind. If the situation had been any more normal he'd have been shocked of his own thoughts. Really? Self-harming? He was really losing it, wasn't he?

But he was curious and he had to find out. Biting his lip, Giotto pushed his nails into his skin and drew. What he supposed should have been painful didn't feel anything but a small tickle. There wasn't even a scratch on his arm. He laughed once. Then twice until he laughed really hard. He didn't quite know why but, just think about it, the situation was so mad. There he was, the great boss of Vongola famiglia, trying to draw out his own blood which many enemies wanted but couldn't get and now it seemed even he himself couldn't get it.

And if he couldn't hurt himself, didn't that mean he couldn't kill himself either?

Giotto stopped laughing, not feeling amused at all. He couldn't die. He was cursed to stay in this place forever without any way to escape. Not even death. Eventually, he'd either die mentally because of boredom or yearning for his family. And only things to keep him company were the bastards that had taken over _his_ home. His!

No, he wouldn't give up there. Not yet. Not ever! Giotto stood up, glaring at the glass like it'd give in under his cold stare. Then the flames appeared into his forehead and hands, his eyes turned into burned orange like the sky in sunset. Giotto breathed in and out, took a better stance and charged. With his dying will he tried to break the damn glass that was the only thing in the middle of him and his loved ones. He hit and hit and hit, orange flames burning brightly in the dark actually casting little light. The boss' light was too pure to the soiled darkness and it had to give way.

But not completely. After a while when Giotto was already dripping sweat onto his black suit and his bangs glued themselves on his forehead he let his fire die down. Nothing. _Nothing._ Not even a crack. Giotto panted, gritting his teeth and forcing himself not to yell. He wanted to south in frustration. Nothing was more frustrating than the fact that something was in front of you but you couldn't get it. It was hopeless. He clenched his fist and flinched, quickly opening his palm and looking down.

His hand was burnt. The blond's eyes widened, tears threatening to force their way out. Why were his hands burnt when he couldn't hurt himself just a while ago? Was it because it was his dying will flame which was much more powerful than normal fire? He examined his scarred palm and wondered when it'd heal. Still, somehow, he felt himself relax. The fact that he could hurt himself made him feel under control. It was ridiculous, it was scary but it was true. The burn marks proved he was still alive and there was a way for him to be in control of his own life. He could die whenever he wanted.

Did he want to die? Burning alive wouldn't be pleasant, no. But if he really was cursed to stay in that place for eternity then he'd take the combustion.

He tried to forget the pain and think. Think. He didn't want to think anymore. He was tired and he didn't know where he was, why, would he see his family again or why he even tried to get out of there when it was no use. He wanted to sleep.

He laid down to the floor but didn't close his eyes. His mind was worn but body wasn't. Was it possible he wasn't even able to sleep? He laughed inwardly. Now that started to sound like a living hell.

Giotto lost the sense of time, staring at the one spot of the empty room. He remembered the room. It was one for guests, not used often because it was one of the smallest rooms in the manor. Giotto liked it though, not more than his own room, but the room was comfy and gave away a warm feeling of closeness and home. The man noticed the colors of the room hadn't changed much either. It was still warm brown.

Days passed as Giotto laid there, staring and trying to empty his head. It wasn't easy and it needed concentration which he gave willingly. Absently he noticed how the light entered the room other side of a big window, then turned into dark once again. That happened many times and Giotto just stared, feeling numb. His hand didn't hurt much anymore but he wasn't up to rising up just yet. His mind was tired.

The shadow passed the opposite wall of the window as a tall man with blond, spiky hair entered the room. Giotto's head perked up. Other human being? When had he seen one last time? He sat up, staring the man that had stopped in the middle of the room. Giotto stood up, placing a hand against the glass. It wasn't neither cool nor warm. It just was. His sky blue eyes observed the occupant of the room whose head was now bowed down.

The man was depressed, Giotto noticed. He was good at observing people, somehow he just knew how others were like, what they were feeling. He understood without knowing or trying. That man, on the other side, was going through a fight inside his head. Absentmindedly Giotto wondered what was wrong but, well, he had quite much going on in his own head that he didn't feel like trying to help. He would, though, if the man helped him out first...

Help him out.

Giotto felt something stirring to life in his chest, something close to excitement and hope. He took a wavering breath and closed his eyes for a while in order to gather his courage and then knocked. He kept it light so that he wouldn't scare the man. But the other person didn't notice, didn't even stir. He just stood there, deep in his own thoughts. Maybe Giotto'd been too gentle with his knock or the man was too deep in his thoughts. Giotto tried again, harder.

Nothing still happened. The blond boss frowned, tilting his head. The man had moved but wasn't still looking at him. His eyes passed the window behind of which he was standing but nothing more. It was like he didn't see Giotto.

Something dying inside him again, Giotto tried to stop it and started to bang frantically against the glass. _Notice me, please._ But the man didn't. Instead he'd started to head for the door in order to exit the room. Not wanting to give away his maybe final chance of survival, Giotto banged so hard his hands started to ache because of unhealed burns. He shouted. Asked for help. Then pleaded.

The unknown man didn't notice or didn't want to. He left the room never looking back. Giotto felt that last part of hope in him cease to exist and stop breathing. He looked dully at the door the blond man had disappeared to and shrunk to the floor. His hands were still on the surface, shaking, and he drew them quickly to himself.

He knew he was being weak, ridiculous, but couldn't care a less. He was in a room without any life around and with teasing images of his home knowing he couldn't get back to. It was better stop hoping so nothing could crush him anymore, right?

Something in his mind talked to him though. Yes, talked. Told him to stop being such a baby and man up. It forced him to stand on his wobbly feet and walk to another window which had people passing it too. Automatically he started to bang his fists once again, ignoring to pain, and yelled. Asked and finally pleaded for help in a way which wasn't considered honourable for a grown man and a tough boss. He didn't care. He wanted out. _Now._

No one saw him, no one heard him. He really was all alone. He fell down and met the darkness called floor. He wanted to laugh bitterly but once again the mind inside his head told him not to do that. It'd make him crazy, it said. It would make him lose the last piece of his sanity, it told him. Fine, if the voice wanted that, he'd listen.

So, instead of doing anything that would lead to his insanity, he laid there and waited. What? Nothing really. He just waited and waited. Maybe for a miracle that he never believed to exist. Once he'd been an orphan so he knew that no one else could help him out but himself. He was the only one to cause himself miracles. They didn't just appear out of thin air. Or better, out of the darkness that had lost all light. Had the darkness even known the light? Even once? Maybe that was why it didn't want to let it come close to it, because the light had hurt the dark in some way and it wanted to be alone. Its all hope was taken and lost. So was Giotto's.

 _Raise up. Now._ The voice told him after a long time which could have been minutes, hours, days or who knew, maybe even months. Giotto didn't listen to it anymore, just stared somewhere which wasn't any of the windows and pretended to sleep. He hadn't slept at all during the time he'd been in the dark room. He didn't feel like it even though he was tired. It wasn't that he didn't want to, he just couldn't. Just like he'd suspected: he couldn't even sleep. He wasn't even hungry or thirsty. _He couldn't die._

He could always burn himself alive.

 _Don't be ridiculous! You have your family, remember? They need you!_ Oh yes, his family. They'd miss him very much if he died now. He didn't want to see their sad faces. They needed him and he needed them. It was simple as that. _Yes, you must live for them._ He'd live then. _Now, stand up._

He stood, not knowing what to do now. He was up and saw that the windows were still there, in the middle of darkness, hanging from nothing. They were like levitating. Giotto started to walk to each of them, walking in a circle. Lightly, he touched the surfaces of all the windows, then stopped. He was in front of one of the smaller windows, shape of a rectangle. Behind it he saw an old man, comping his hair back and humming happily. His eyes were brown, warm brown and his face wrinkled. Giotto stared the man in the eye and the man stared back. Then, something flashed in Giotto's mind. Those tasks the old man was doing. Comping hair. Looking. Then he remembered the locations of all the other windows and he realized something.

Something that wasn't good at all. On the contrary.

The windows weren't windows. They were mirrors!

 _They were god damn mirrors!_

"What?" Giotto whispered, voice cracking after a long inactivity. Mirrors. No wonder no one had noticed him. He was inside a freaking mirror! He wanted to curl into a ball and cry, oh he so wanted to do that. After this long time he had nothing else but black and mirrors. He didn't want to find out why he was inside the mirrors of his mansion or why was there people unfamiliar to him. He just either wanted to get the hell out or break completely down. Maybe both.

 _You don't have time for that,_ the voice in his head yelled at him. His intuition was telling him something. Blocked his unshed tears away and hardened his mind. He had to move so he did. He passed the old man bitterly, not liking him one bit even if the old one mightn't be the one who cursed him into the situation. He passed many _mirrors_ looking into them, still letting his fingers slide over them. He looked, stared, observed, finally understanding why he was seeing what he was seeing. It all made sense now.

His eyes caught other person. Someone much younger than the old man from a while ago. Then he noticed it was the same room he'd seen the first person after entering his abyss. He stopped and stared. Someone was looking straight to him. No. He was looking straight to the mirror. Looking at himself and not Giotto. The man thought bitterly, humans only saw themselves. Nothing more, no one else.

The boy had a messy brown hair and dark brown eyes. Absently Giotto noticed the boy was too thin compared to his height but didn't mingle in it too long. Instead, he wanted to stare into the young boy's eyes. Like from the man before, he was able to detect deep sadness now too. So deep Giotto felt his throat closing and breathing become harder than before. The eyes that looked back at him were hollow and so sad. Too sad for a boy so young. Giotto couldn't break their eye contact even though he knew they boy wasn't looking at him.

A weird feeling passed the blond. _Or was he?_

Giotto's eyes widened. He placed his palm against the glass and leaned in, looking at the boy whose eyes had widened too. The dull brown sparkled for few seconds, telling Giotto that it really was true, the boy had seen him. The dead eyes looked alive, even if it was just a second, it was definitely there.

Something fell down from the corner of the man's eyes. It left a wet streak after it and landed on his now smiling lips. It tasted salty. Giotto couldn't believe what he was seeing. After all this time someone had finally seen him! He was saved. There was hope. There was hope!

But then, the brown eyes were showing something else, once again. They were full of fire, determination while the small boy stepped few steps closer to the mirror and glared up at Giotto. Giotto's smile faltered a little, seeing the fear and will in the boy's eyes. His breath stuck in his throat.

"You're not really here," the brunet whispered, voice wavering. Giotto's eyes widened even more. Was the boy speaking Japanese? Like his Asari did. "And I'm not crazy!" the boy now yelled and left the room. For a while Giotto couldn't help but stare his retreating back until it disappeared. Then the situation hit in and Giotto started to bang the mirror, yelling in Italian because he didn't trust his rusty Japanese enough. "Come back! Please! Help me!"

But the boy didn't come back. Not for a long time. Still, Giotto couldn't stop himself from smiling happily, his heart now filled with new, pure hope. There was someone that had seen him, knew where he was, and he'd find out a way to get out of the mirror.

The blond man sat down, preparing to wait for the young boy no matter how long it took. The boy was his only hope now and he had all the time in the world. A little waiting would be nothing compared to the time he'd had to spend all alone in the hopeless darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

Tsuna poked a slice of carrot with a fork, knowing how impolite he was being. He felt his father's gaze on him from time to time, trying to catch his eye. He didn't look up, ignoring him knowingly. He knew how he was supposed to eat properly. They were in the huge manor after all with important people around them. Usually Tsuna was good-mannered but who could have concentrated on manners if there was a constant churning feeling inside of them. Like something wanted to get out but couldn't because it was imprisoned inside the body.

A sixteen-year-old boy felt sick, he couldn't eat. Everything he wanted to do was throw up, have a long shower and then go to sleep and stay under the covers until it was a late afternoon. Inside his mind the boy sighed. He couldn't do that here, right?

Tsuna speared the carrot into the fork, putting it into his mouth. It tasted like an ash no matter how expensive those carrots must've been. Forcefully he shewed the vegetable and swallowed it. This time it didn't get stuck to his throat. He could continue eating.

"Do you like the food, Tsunayoshi-kun?"

Tsuna rose his head towards the voice to see the old man with white hair and kind brown eyes smiling at him. He was a nice grandpa, Tsuna's dad's boss like Iemitsu had earlier declared, so Tsuna didn't want to disappoint him. After all he was the one who'd given a permission for Tsuna to come and live in the enormous mansion with his father. Not that Tsuna had agreed with the move whole heartedly but he had had no choice.

The situation had called it so there had been nothing to say against his father. Right?

"It's good, thank you," he said politely, smiling a little. But the smile felt strained even for him. Like anyone in the room would believe him.

Still, Timoteo smiled back looking pleased. Tsuna was relieved the old man hadn't pushed the issue any further and his dad hadn't either. They hadn't talked about it with Iemitsu yet, only few words here and there because of the funeral. Those words couldn't have been avoided no matter how much Tsuna'd have liked to stay distant to his "dad". The man hadn't been present in his life for past five years, anyway. Only now he had come back, after a too long silence with no other communication but ridiculous postcards of penguins and camels. And even those had been bullshit. Now they were in Italy, in a mansion of his dad's boss which meant his dad worked mostly there, not in Arabic or South Pole or what so ever.

That one thought made Tsuna want to rage at his sorry excuse of a father but every time he'd tried to collect his anger, put it together, he'd started to feel so tired. So close to breaking down that he'd simply decided to let it go and say what he had to say some other time.

That other time was yet to come.

Maybe he'd be able to recover now that he was in the Vongola mansion, the name his dad had told him before they'd took a flight from Namimori airport to Sicily. Tsuna had no idea what Vongola actually was, if he believed his father's words of it being a big, worldwide company, but they sure were rich. Every ounce of the old manor was covered with gold, silver and marble. Even his new room he'd seen before dinner was huge, enough for three people to live at the same time. And it was all his. Tsuna could see how his mom would have been excited of all of this. How everything was so beautiful, exotic and new. Tsuna tried his best to feel the same, for Nana, but every time he tried to think the place as his new home, he remembered his old, smaller and plainer one which held more good memories than any other place did.

Actually, he was a little bit afraid he'd start to think the manor as his home and forget the one in Japan where he'd lived with his mom. Just the two of them, happily enough. He'd been bullied through his life so he didn't have any friends to whom to talk so Nana had been the only light in his life. The only one that had been able to rise him up from the dark place called the world. Reality. Whenever he'd come home after a good beating, his mom had been worried sick, treating his wounds and then smiled, taking all sadness away. That had been the only reason he'd been able to wake up every morning and go back to the hell they called school, the place to start your future. It hadn't meant that to Tsuna with his low grades and uncooperative teachers who refused to teach someone as stupid as him.

Yet his mom had still believed in him even after all the disappointment he'd brought to her. She'd praised him when he'd gotten a little better grade than before after putting some effort into the test. No one else noticed it so he'd given up trying but that one time had absolutely been worth it. The proud smile on her lips was something he held as the most precious memory of his mother.

So when Iemitsu had told him, after the guests had left, that he'd take Tsuna with him, he'd had mixed feelings. That it was his duty as a parent to look after him. Tsuna was still underage and couldn't live alone, take care of himself. He knew he was supposed to be thankful or something but he seriously couldn't. Why would he be thankful for being thought as a duty? A responsibility but not as a loved son. Did his father really want him or was it just an act? Something to tend the regret he felt after leaving his only son without father for such a long time.

Once again one more reason to get angry about but Tsuna couldn't. He sighed, this time out loud. He just wanted to sleep all the fatigue away and forget any of this had happened. Maybe he'd wake up in his own room in Japan to the smell of his mom's delicious breakfast. Everything would be normal. Like the hell at school but normal and happy at home.

He really missed her.

Why did it have to be her?

Why not him? Why not his father? He didn't care about him. His mom had done nothing wrong to deserve such a fate.

Tsuna lowered his utensils, not being able to eat anymore. Not only the food still tasted like ash but his hands felt sweaty and he thought he saw something red on his palms. Quickly he hid his hands under the white tablecloth, not caring if his hands really were red and would spoil the pure, untouched white.

"...th, Tsuna?" Tsuna snapped out of his thoughts, realizing he'd been dozing off. His eyes focused once again to see a blond man with a goofy grin looking at him, not really _seeing_ his son. Tsuna shook his head, trying to get rid of negative thoughts.

"Sorry, what?" His dad's face fell comically.

"Eeeh? Tsuna, didn't you listen to daddy?" Tsuna rolled his eyes at his idiotic father who was wiping away false tears. He was trying too much to pretend everything was normal. That they still were at Japan, that Nana was still alive and everything was like after his come back from his stupid job. Tsuna still didn't know what the man actually did for living but he would bet his life he actually wasn't working traffic at construction sites. Not when his boss was such a rich fart.

"Just get on with it," Tsuna said, not wanting to spare any more time to his dad. Iemitsu once again looked like a kicked puppy but got serious when he got a look from Timoteo. It didn't go unnoticed from Tsuna.

"As I was saying, I'm gonna enrol you to the local school tomorrow and I think you can start next week. Isn't that great?" He had a wide grin on. Tsuna, on the other hand, had his mouth open in shock.

"What? A school?" he asked with a small voice. He didn't want to go to school. It'd be hell. He'd still be Dame-Tsuna. And he didn't even know any Italian. He couldn't learn new language in such a short time. Oh, he would be so dead.

Then Tsuna relaxed. Well, that was at least something he was used to. Being bullied, being the zero. The language barrier didn't mean anything, he'd fail all his tests anyway and maybe it was better not to understand all taunts he'd get from his future classmates. He resisted the urge to smirk grimly.

His dad really didn't know anything about him, huh?

"Yep." Iemitsu still hadn't noticed Tsuna's serious, unwilling face. "You yourself gave your permission on the way here, remember?"

Tsuna simply stared at the man, not understanding. Had given his permission? When exactly was that? Then he remembered hearing his dad saying something to him while he'd looked out of the window of the fine, black car they'd been in. He'd heard his voice but not words. He didn't remember much about the trip anyway, he'd been so into his thoughts back then. He'd even skipped half of the scenery they'd passed and he remembered he hadn't wanted to listen to his father at the moment so he had simply nodded, happy that the talking had ceased.

It had been his own mistake then. Maybe he should start to listen people more.

"Yeah, okay," he simply said and turned away, looking at the meal which had still half of it left.

"You should eat that," his dad said continuing with his own portion. Tsuna nodded but didn't touch the plate. He just waited, listening to the foreign language his dad and Timoteo'd started to use. He didn't understand a word so he let soft notes of Italian go in from one ear and out of the other. It was lulling, even though the pace of conversation was heated.

Chairs scratched the floor when other people by the table started to stand up. Tsuna followed the example. "Thank you for the food, Nono," his father said with a polite smile. The old man nodded with a smile of his own. "Where're the others?"

"Ah, Xanxus didn't want to eat in the presence of 'trash' like he nicely expressed, Federico's in a meeting with an allied family and I think Massimo went somewhere with his friends. Hopefully not gambling." The old man looked stern and Iemitsu laughed once again. Tsuna followed the conversation not knowing who they were talking about so instead he let his gaze travel around the big hall they'd just arrived.

He already knew big stairs in the middle of the hall led to upstairs where his room was situated as well as his father's room. He didn't know about the other rooms but there'd been many indeed. The whole manor looked like a place Tsuna could easily get lost. It was better not to roam around.

He followed two men upstairs to the second floor where Timoteo left them with a happy good-bye. Then suddenly Tsuna realized he was on the third floor, alone. His dad had already gone to his own room without Tsuna noticing. Not that he minded. The brunet went to his own room, hardly remembering which of the countless doors lead to it.

Finally he found the right one and went in. Suddenly he had a feeling he had to stop to the doorway for a while and just take everything in. It was his room. _His._ And it was so huge. The walls were brown, as well as floor and roof, though they were lighter shade. The huge king size bed was big enough to have at least three grown men sleep in it without problem. Its head board was also fancy: dark oak and carvings. The bedcovers were white, golden and brown as well as the curtains which hung in front of windows that were from the floor up to the ceiling. It was too big, too spacious. Tsuna didn't feel like home.

In Namimori he had had a normal sized room with bluish wallpapers. Not that the color of them was seen under many anime posters he had hanged on the walls. His room had been suitable for a teenage boy, this hardly was. It didn't look like Tsuna. He wasn't this great, as neat as the room wanted him to be. He wanted to rip old pieces of art off the walls, break the full-length mirror near his bed and throw his stuff around the floor.

The state the room was now in felt suffocating. Too proper and pretentious. It was beautiful yeah, but it wasn't Tsuna's. It was someone else's room. Tsuna just borrowed it for a while.

Slowly Tsuna went to sit on his bed, not liking how soft the mattress felt under him. He grabbed the cover into his fists, squeezing it until he felt nails on his palms. He closed his eyes and tried to tell himself he liked the place. He'd get used to it. His mom'd want so.

"I'm fine," he whispered out loud. Sometimes talking to himself helped him tolerate some situations he didn't like. For example, when someone called him with names, he told himself they weren't true or soon he'd get home. Now he was fine. Definitely okay. He was happy in his new home and his mother would be proud of him.

Tsuna took a deep breath, stood up and was about to go to the shower when his gaze met brown, tired eyes. It was a full-length mirror.

Tsuna swallowed with difficulty, looking the small teenager from head to toe with judging gaze. The clothes the boy wore were anything but appropriate to the environment he was staying in now. His black t-shirt was two sizes two big when he'd have bet it'd been quite fit only few months ago. His blue jeans had a small hole around the knee and his red sneakers had definitely seen better days.

Most saddening part of the boy was his eyes which looked like they hadn't rested for years. There were dark bags under both hazel eyes. He also looked quite pale under overgrown messy bangs. And he was so thin. When had he become so thin? When had he looked into the mirror last time?

He couldn't look at that person any longer. It sickened him. No wonder no one liked him at school if he looked like that. He was just about to turn away when he noticed the reflection becoming hazy, blacker around where his face had been just a moment ago. He stared when he realized he was looking at someone's chest, covered with a black suit, white dress shirt and a tie. He opened his mouth, then closed again.

It was a man. A blond man with piercing blue eyes that felt like tearing Tsuna's soul out in the open, not leaving anything into shadows. They were blue like the Sky outside, like the sky that felt too heavy on his shoulders sometimes. So did the gaze.

But his eyes widened only when he realized the man looked a lot like him or at least how he used to look like before. Only a lot older and healthier. But as tired. So tired.

The man in the mirror looked straight back at Tsuna and the boy couldn't take his eyes off. It was like he was mesmerized. Unconsciously he felt his breath shudder every time he exhaled. The spell broke only when the man turned fully at him, placing a hand on a surface of the mirror, the tiredness in his eyes turning into something else. Something more positive.

Tsuna snapped out of his thoughts, realizing the absurdness of the situation. There was a _man_ inside the freaking _mirror._ No, it was impossible. There was no way someone could do that. It was ridiculous. The reality wasn't some fantasy book. If it was, then dead people could also come back from death. That hadn't happened yet no matter how much Tsuna'd prayed, no matter what he had promised to give away for his mother's life.

So there couldn't be a person behind the surface of the mirror either.

He resisted the urge look behind him. He didn't want to take his eyes off of the stranger. Hallucination. His eyes were performing tricks, playing with his mind. It wasn't funny, it was only scary.

He was starting to see things that didn't exist.

But he wasn't crazy. No, he wasn't. Tsuna shook his head mentally, willing the thought go away from his head. The man was not there. He did not exist. Tsuna was just tired.

Yes, he was really tired and he wanted to sleep. Then the blond man would go away.

It had to go away.

It was all his imagination.

It wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't real.

He hadn't realized how his hands had started to shake. Was he nervous? He was afraid. His head was spinning, everything felt unreal.

He had to be dreaming.

He took few steps towards the mirror, seeing surprised look in those dangerous, blue eyes. _No, his hallucination's eyes_. "You're not really here," he whispered, not admitting talking to the weird reflection was the first sign of becoming mental. He just thought that saying things aloud would make them more real. So would they also make him a little out of his mind? No, no way. "And I'm not crazy!"

He left the room, running. He didn't know why he was running. Suddenly he had had this urge to get as far away from the guy as he could. He opened the first door he saw, fumbling with the lock when he was inside. When he heard a relieving click, he sled down to the white tiles and breathed.

Inhale, exhale, in, out. One, two, three, four... Everything was okay. He isn't real. _He isn't._

The world started to whirl around. His breathing didn't want to stay regular. He put his head into his knees, closing his eyes. Nausea was still present from the food he'd forced himself to eat. Also the situation from before had been so absurd and when he added also the fatigue to all that it was no wonder he started to see white spots around his closed eyelids. _Breathe in, breathe out._ Everything was okay.

"I'm just imagining things." He almost didn't hear his own voice but he was quite sure he'd said it aloud. "When I go back in, it's not there."

Tsuna didn't know how much time had passed when he was finally able to stand up without his knees giving in and he tumbled under a hot shower. He stood there, leaning to the elegant tiled wall staring to the distance with unseeing eyes. The image of a blond man was burned into his retina, refusing to live him alone. And those blue eyes, they haunted him more than anyone else's eyes he'd ever seen.

He squeezed his fists tightly shut, feeling his nails digging deeper to the skin. It hurt, it really did but it also helped him think. Get pictures out of his head. Blue eyes, red, brown eyes. Tsuna clapped a hand to his mouth, eyes wide. Disgusting taste of vomit burned his throat and before he could stop himself he had his dinner on the floor, flushing to the sewer with soapy water.

He was shaking from head to toe feeling weak and tired. He felt his energy being drawn out of him when he struggled to get his clothes on, not bothering to dry his hair before dressing. When he opened the door for the first time after his quick escape he didn't even bother to check if there still stood a man, looming over his own smaller figure. He simply fell to the bed, imagining piercing eyes on his back since he wasn't facing the cursed mirror.

He'd look tomorrow if there was anyone anymore.

Obviously there wouldn't be since everything was caused by his fatigue. He hadn't slept well for a long time. Even now he knew he wouldn't get enough sleep since he always kept waking up from the nightmares. Vivid ones at that.

Those dreams were always covered with red.

The brunet closed his eyes, falling into the darkness in a second.

* * *

A/N: A lot of insanity here. But now I think you all understand Tsuna's reaction better. This, indeed, is AU and Tsuna's not the boss which means he also doesn't know about the Mafia. Yet, Vongola's still there. He's staying at the Vongola manor. He's just not part of it and I seriously don't know how Iemitsu thought he'd keep that fact from Tsuna that he's living with the Italian Mafia. Well, he's an idiot, anyway.

Thank you for all the reviews, favorites and follows!


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